Cement Floors and the Cost of Knowing
by starry19
Summary: 2x05 Tag - " She was starting to wonder if she knew him at all, had ever really known him. Then again, it wasn't like they'd had any sort of normal friendship or romantic relationship. No, they'd never gotten to know each other over drinks, or late night talks about nothing."


AN: I wrote a deeply angsty tag last week, thinking I got it all out of my system. Turns out, I didn't. Also, y'all, I think I just didn't like this episode very much.

Yes, this one IS a Lyatt fic. You can all stop looking at me like I've gone totally over the edge of a cliff. Also, I wrote this in an hour so you're not allowed to dislike it. (I'm kidding, but not about the hour thing)

 **Cement Floors and the Cost of Knowing**

She was starting to wonder if she knew him at all, had _ever_ really known him.

Then again, it wasn't like they'd had any sort of normal friendship or romantic relationship. No, they'd never gotten to know each other over drinks, or late night talks about nothing.

They tended to reveal bits about themselves while locked in jails or when about to be executed or when insane bank robbers were on the other side of a three inch wall.

And then never talk about it again.

She didn't think he had ever lied to her about these things. Scratch that, she _knew_ he hadn't been lying.

But this other timeline that Jessica had been living in…

Wyatt was an unfaithful drunk who was never there for her?

Jessica's admission as she made an attempt to walk away had thrown her. Deeply. That was _not_ her Wyatt. Not the man who had held her when she'd sobbed her heart out over her mother's betrayal, the man who had walked into her arms after his last failed attempt to bring his wife back and then sworn to protect her.

Unfaithful.

She couldn't think of anything that described Wyatt less.

He had always been faithful to her. Even when he was stealing the Lifeboat, he had done his level best to protect her. And, from what she had been told, when she was being held prisoner by Rittenhouse, he had tried to tear the bunker apart in an attempt to get to her.

Moreover, she could not _imagine_ Wyatt going to such great lengths to resurrect a woman that he had cheated on. More than once, if Jessica's tone of casual acceptance was anything to by.

So did she know him? Two days ago, she would have bet her life on it, bet her life that she knew him better than anyone.

He liked surfing.

She hadn't know that.

Jessica had been his high school sweetheart.

She hadn't know that, either.

Hopelessly, she ran her hands through her hair. If she was being honest with herself, if she could go back to earlier in the night, she wasn't at all sure she would have stopped Jessica from leaving.

Despite what she herself had told Wyatt, she had regrets.

She regretted that they'd only had one night. She regretted she hadn't told him, very precisely, how much she loved him. Regretted the loss of the future plans she had tentatively begun to make, the loss of the arms that had always been there for her.

Someone else would be in them now.

It made her sick with jealousy and heartache.

Could she do this? Could she be in this bunker with the two of them? Wyatt seemed to think it would work out. Then again, he was getting what he wanted, what he had always wanted. His wife back.

And, oh, how that hurt - to fully realize she was a consolation prize.

Had she ever been more than a distraction for him? Someone to have a fling with? Did he even have a second of hesitation as he tried to make things work with Jessica? Was there ever even a moment where he considered just…being with _her_?

He had never told her he loved her. Maybe that was because he really didn't.

Oh, dear God.

She thought she might actually be physically ill. So much so that she rushed from her tiny room, the beer she'd had earlier churning in a decidedly unpleasant way in her gut.

The concrete of the bathroom floor was blessedly cool under her cheek. She hadn't slept on the floor next to a toilet since she was in college and had a habit of binge drinking vodka lemonades. Tonight was looking like a likely possibility though.

There was a sound coming from somewhere, almost a whimpering. With a sense of horror, she realized she was the one making it.

 _Get it together_ , she fiercely told herself. She didn't need anyone to wake up and find her like this.

She sucked in a breath. Then another one.

This continued until she thought she was going to be sick again.

To her everlasting horror, the door opened.

Rufus appeared, looking alarmed to find her on the floor.

"What the hell, Lucy?" he asked, crossing over to where she was half-sitting, half-laying. "What happened? Are you okay?" Carefully, he crouched beside her, one hand on her shoulder.

She raced for an excuse. "Just…just my arm bothering me. The painkillers are making me sick."

Rufus looked closer at her. Then, firmly, "Bullshit."

He dropped down, urged her to sit by him, their shoulders against the wall. They didn't speak for several minutes, and she was relieved that she managed to get her breathing under control.

"I don't think I'd be strong enough to do what you're doing," he finally said. "Walking away from the person I loved."

She looked at him with imploring eyes. "Should I have fought for him? I mean, she's his _wife_ , but maybe I should have tried…" And she just didn't _know_ anymore.

He shook his head. "No. Whatever is going to happen with that marriage needs to happen." There was an odd tone to his voice. "Luce, I don't know if I should even be telling you this, especially since things can change, but I've seen the way he looks at you. And I've seen the way he looks at his wife." He paused collecting his thoughts. "I'd rather be you. I mean, if I was a woman."

Unexpectedly, her lips twitched. Then she sighed. "Rufus, I don't want to be his plan B. I don't want him to be with me just because he can't be with her."

Rufus nodded. "Lucy, you are one of the most extraordinary women I've ever met. You are no one's plan B, I promise. Especially not Wyatt's. He loves you an absolutely insane amount."

She raised an eyebrow. "Does he?" It was rhetorical, and a little bitter, but Rufus answered her anyway.

"Yes," he said, in a tone of absolute conviction. "He does."

And now she felt petty and childish. It wasn't pleasant. She covered her face with her hands. "Jessica told me he cheated."

She could feel Rufus's shock as he worked out that statement. "No damn way. Not the Wyatt we know. Not in this timeline."

It was a relief to know he felt the same. They had both seen Wyatt at his best and worst, at the highest degree of stress a person could operate under. They had come to the same conclusions.

"I feel like the other woman," she whispered.

Rufus snorted. "Well, you kind of are, but it's nobody's fault. And, to be fair, neither of you _knew_ you were the other woman, so I'm pretty sure it doesn't count." He stretched out his legs in front of him. "I wonder what it's like to have a normal relationship."

"You and Jiya are winning that competition," she told him, voice sounding moderately steady.

"Yeah," he said, "except for the whole visions thing and disagreements about religion and the fact that we're living in a secret bunker, which is totally normal." He thought for a second. "Then again, the bar for normal has been set pretty damn low."

She almost smiled. "I'd take visions over a resurrected wife," she said, then felt guilty. "Not that I want her to be dead. And not that I don't want Wyatt to be happy."

"Uh huh," Rufus deadpanned. "Lucy… _you_ made him happy. And you don't always have to be the most noble maiden in all the land, at least not around me. I know you better than that. You're allowed to be heartbroken. You're allowed to be angry."

"Oh, good," she replied. "Glad I have your permission." But there was no acid in her tone.

And she _was_ heartbroken. And she _was_ angry.

Rufus nudged her shoulder with his. "Hang in there," he murmured.

A half an hour later, she managed to find her feet, mind a little more settled. It was exhausting, being strong _all_ the time.

Still, it wasn't like she had a choice.

They were in the middle of a war. She did not get the luxury of being an emotional mess, at least not in public.

Wyatt himself had told her about compartmentalization training. In the course of his military service, he had seen and done some pretty traumatizing things. And yet, he still could laugh with her, could function on a daily basis without sticking his fingers in his ears and screaming.

Which was something she was considering doing just at the moment.

But.

She pushed the urge back.

Straightened her shoulders.

She could be a solider, too.

But first… she wondered if Flynn had any more beer.

She figured she'd probably earned one.


End file.
